


Night and Day

by ritsuko



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Brainwashing, Guilt, HYDRA Trash Party, Hydra (Marvel), Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Music, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, One-Sided Relationship, Poor Bucky, Psychological Torture, Singing, Torture, implied animal cruelty, just sadness and feels, poor steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:24:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ritsuko/pseuds/ritsuko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve receives a package in the mail. Little does he know it's from HYDRA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night and Day

**Author's Note:**

> Song mentioned is [ HERE ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mPbnVU6JqXk)

The knock on the door is so soft, he almost doesn't hear it. Steve's busy washing dishes in the sink, and quickly grabs a towel. "Coming!" He calls out, walking towards the door still wiping his hands. He doesn't need to check the peephole, he has no reason to worry. 

But when he opens the door, there is no one there. Confused, he looks out into the hall, but there's no one there either. His foot nudges something, and he looks down. There is a little flat package at his foot, tipped over from hitting it. Reaching down he picks it up and turns it over in his hands. There's no name on it, no address. Only 'Rogers' written on it in perfect block letters. With a shrug, he brings it back into the apartment, locking up behind him.

Going back into the kitchen, he sets the towel down and starts to open the package. The contents are just as enigmatic.

One disk, Steve thinks it's one of those recordable DVD's but can't be sure; it seems like it though as those perfect little block letters say 'Watch Me'.

There's no trepidation; after all, it's just a disk. So he doesn't think as he pops it into his DVD player that Nat bought him and showed him how to use.

The instant the screen flicks to life, his insides recoil in horror.

There's a man bound to a chair in the video. He hangs limply, head lolled to the side. Even with the lank dirty brown hair and torso crisscrossed with scars, Steve knows it's Bucky. One metal hand is clenched, the light sound of metal scraping on metal comes through the audio. But Bucky's other flesh hand is gripping the armrest so hard that it has turned white. They've got a contraption around his head, constantly shocking him. Those steel blue eyes are wide and full of pain. Steve almost sobs as a tear slips from one of Bucky's eyes. 

The blonde grabs for the remote, wanting it off. Before he can find the button, the video changes. It looks like an old black and white footage. Men are speaking rapidly in German and he can hear screams, bloodcurdling screams. The camera focuses on an operating table, and even in shades of grey the amount of blood splattered everywhere is sickening.

Bucky struggles weakly on the table, bound in place by straps. The bloody stump of his arm has wires sticking out of it, and Steve can see the electricity jumping off of them, stimulating the felled man's wound. Bucky's screams abate into pained whimpers, bottom lip bloody between his teeth. 

Steve looks away. That voice babbles on in German, excited and frantic. There's another particularly pained scream after another flash of electricity, and then he hears something he never thought he would.

Bucky laughs. 

First it's just a maniacal little giggle, that turns into full on laughter. Steve looks up, and the people in the video ceased their testing to focus on the hysterical man.

"Was ist denn los?" One man finally steps forward, authoritative and angry.

Steve can see the fight flash in Bucky's eyes. His laughter subsides, as he glares back.

"You're fucked. You are all so fucked. Captain America's gonna come here and destroy you. None of you HYDRA trash will survive. He'll bring enough troops to raze this shithole to the ground." The brunette smiles, teeth bloody and eyes manic with triumph.

The man in the uniform clucks his tongue at him. "Herr Barnes, how sad you do not even realize your position. No one thinks you are alive. No one is searching for you. And most importantly, Steve Rogers is dead."

The blonde watches horror cross Bucky's features, his head twitch in disbelief from side to side. "You fucking liar. There's no way I'd believe that."

"It is true. He crashed into the Atlantic Ocean in the plane your unit helped build. One small consolation for freezing to death, but a minor hindrance."

He watches the brunette's face fall, his color become paler. Steve's heart feels like it's ripping in half as Bucky comes to the realization that his best friend is dead, and that no one is coming for him.

"No. . ." He states weakly. "You're lying. He's coming, You'll see."

The men in the video resume their work, but Bucky ceases screaming. 

Steve doesn't even realize that tears are trailing down his cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three missed runs, and Sam knows something is up. If there is anything that he's learned about Captain America, it's that the man never misses a morning run.

Especially when he's made plans.

When he knocks on the blonde's door, for a moment he feels a little foolish. What if something has happened? What if Fury has him out doing a mission or something? Highly unlikely with SHIELD being as it is. Or maybe the Avengers are assembled somewhere fighting something. It isn't unheard of. Hell, part of London had been destroyed only a couple of weeks ago by weird elf creatures.

But it is unlikely that Steve would leave and not tell him. They've been through too much together.

The door cracks open slowly, and Sam is taken aback.

Cap looks like shit. 

His blonde hair is in disarray as if he's been sleeping, but red rimmed eyes and deep bags under them tell him it isn't the case.

"Whoa, hey there. Long night?" Sam asks, and Steve looks away.

"No, I just. . . come in." He states, and Sam can hear the sadness in his voice. Something has happened. 

There are plenty of things that it can be. Being displaced in time, although Steve seems to be adapting pretty well. SHIELD going down, and HYDRA having been around and undefeated all this time. More likely, but Steve has a pragmatic way of dealing with such things, of accepting and letting go and marching steadfastly on. 

More than likely, it's that friend.

The Winter Soldier.

No, Bucky Barnes.

Steve seems to have this hope that if he cam find the man, he will remember him this time, that he'll come home and they'll be friends again. It's unlikely, but the hope is more than Steve seems able to contain.

Except now.

The blonde busies himself making a pot of coffee. Sam watches his muscles move under a tight t-shirt and clears his throat. "C'mon Cap, gonna give me the silent treatment?"

"I'm sorry." He mumbles, back still to him. Sam can tell Steve is thinking of other things, as if he isn't still there. He's seen it enough times in survivors with PTSD. It's hard to think that someone as seemingly invincible as Captain America could have such an ailment, but he is only human after all.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. What is it?" He queries, pondering what it could be. He decides to venture forth with his thought. "Is it him?"

He doesn't have to clarify who _he_ is.

Steve carefully pours water in the coffee maker and measures out the grounds. Once the pot is percolating, he turns, and rests against the counter, hands clenched over the rim. 

"You know, Peggy once told me to respect his decision, and I grew to accept that. But that was when I thought he was dead. Not when they did these things. Not when they tortured him. . ."

Steve's gaze is far away, unfocused, and so inexplicably ashamed. Sam frowns. 

"None of that was your fault. You didn't know. No one did. HYDRA, those assholes are more sinister than anyone ever gave them credit for. It's not your fault, Steve." He rises, walking nearer. The closer he gets, he realizes that the blonde is shaking, hands white knuckled against the marble. "Easy there, you're gonna need a new counter if you don't ease up."

The blonde blinks down at his hands and lets go suddenly, recoiling as if shamed to have lost himself. "It's just harder. . ." Steve swallows. "Knowing hat happened."

Sam feels confused. "What do you mean, 'knowing what happened?'"

Steve's eyes look watery, defeated. "They sent me recordings."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were awful, each and every bit of video. Just knowing that these things were real, that they had happened to an actual person. . . but even worse was knowing the man, watching the decline of free will into utter obedience. The light started to fade from Bucky's eyes as each horror was inflicted upon him.

Steve wanted to stop, but each bit of footage was like another twisted turn, tumbling down a manic rabbit hole of sickening torture. 

He deserved this. Steve hadn't been there with Bucky, he hadn't saved him. He deserved this as penance. 

Each slap, each punch, the blonde wished he could take the brunt of. 

Each body augment, surgery and incision, he wished he could sooth and mend, watching over Bucky the way he once watched over him.

In one piece of footage, Bucky is alone in a room, shirtless. Scars crisscross his torso. He stands, head down, arms at his sides. The light glints off of the metal of his new appendage. Suddenly, dogs burst into the room, growling and snapping. The first one bites, clamping hard onto his leg. The brunette makes no reaction. Another snaps onto his flesh arm. Blood flies through the air. The other dogs jump and snap, scoring him with teeth and claws.

"уничтожить их." Comes the order from off camera, and Bucky's head raises. Steve swallows hard at the lack of humanity in them. 

The metal arm makes quick work of the animals. Steve has to look away, the sounds of yipping and pained whining horrifying. When they subside, he dares to look at the screen, only to see Bucky in the previous position, head down, arms at his sides. Only now, he is coated in blood and gore, unrecognizeable bodies at his feet. 

Just following orders.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why did you watch them?" Sam asks, incredulous, and Steve looks away. 

"I didn't mean to. . . and God, they got worse. They just kept getting worse. The things they did." Steve has to stop talking, breath hitching uncomfortably in his throat.

"You're torturing yourself. That's not going to do anything for anyone. Least of all him."

Sam reached out to place a hand on the blonde's shoulder, but the other man shirked away from him, only to rub his hands over his face. 

"You don't understand. The things they did. . . they're awful, Sam. He was all alone. He had to deal with it all alone."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The body huddled in the middle of the room is naked, covered in blood, bruises and. . . Steve thinks he is going to throw up. But try as he might, he can't get the vision of Bucky's blank eyes and swollen lips crusted with white fluid out of his head. 

He cries. 

As hard as he tries to hold it in, it bursts out in a torrent. Tears run down his face. He can't control it. The video is nothing more than Bucky laying there, blank and used. 

This time, Steve has to turn it off. He starts to press the button.

It's then he sees Bucky's lips moving slightly.

He turns up the sound on the television as far as it will go.

_Like the drip, drip, drip of the raindrops_  
 _When the summer shower is through_  
 _So a voice within me keeps repeating_  
 _You, you, you_

Steve pauses, staring at the screen in shock. It can't be.

But the barest hint of song slips past those lips, too quiet for most to notice.

_Night and day, you are the one_  
 _Only you beneath the moon and under the sun_  
 _Whether near to me, or far_  
 _It's no matter darling where you are_  
 _I think of you night and day_

Steve can still remember listening to the radio, hearing that song belted out by Sinatra. How much Bucky had adored the tune.

He doesn't know what was worse, that Bucky was suffering all of this abuse, or that somewhere deep inside, he was still aware.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How much footage is there?" Sam asks cautiously, knowing there had to be a lot.

The blonde looks away. "Eight hours."

Sam feels taken aback. "And you watched every minute of it?"

Steve can only nod, feeling sick in the pit of his stomach. But Sam feels as if something is missing. "How many times have you watched it?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There's no sleeping, no eating. Just the video. He watches it, again and again. He loses count of how many times.

He stops blinking as much as he can, just so he can remember every curve of Bucky's jaw, every wound, every hurt. So he can remember.

Steve needs to remember. He'll make HYDRA pay. Every single one, agent or lab tech. Every single goon will regret it.

The knock comes at his door, and Steve jumps. Quickly, he turns the DVD off, as well as the television. He answers the door to find Sam, confused and concerned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I think you should give it to me."

Steve blinks up in shock. "What? Why?"

"I don't think it's good for you." Sam states slowly, dark chocolate eyes searching his own.

The blonde is silent a long moment. "I just. . . I need to remember this. They have to pay."

"And they will." Sam promises. "But first, we need to focus. You said you wanted to find him. I'm going to help you do that, in any way I can. But first, we need to do something other than focus on the past."

Sam is right. With a sigh, and a forlorn smile, Steve nods. "Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for." The other man stated, and Steve finally accepted that hand on his shoulder. "We just have to focus. When we do find Barnes, and we will find him, you don't want any of this clouding your thoughts. He's gonna need his best friend, not someone who pities him."

Steve swallows and nods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He tries not to fixate. Sam and him come up with a plan. Visit Stark and ask for some help on intel. He'd cracked into SHIELD's mainframe before. Maybe there'd been some trace of HYDRA in all that data. Maybe he'd be able to find Bucky using it.

They'll leave in the morning.

Until then, Steve sits in the dark, whiskey on the rocks in hand. It won't do anything for him. But he hopes it will calm him. In the background, Sinatra plays. He can't help it. It's helping him focus.

_Night and day, night and day under the hide of me_  
 _There's an oh such a hungry yearning burning inside of me_  
 _And its torment won't be through_  
 _'Til you let me spend my life making love to you_  
 _Day and night, night and day._

Steve takes a bitter sip, lost in memories.

He'll find Bucky, and then he'll tell him how he always felt.

How much he always had meant to him.

How much he still does.


End file.
